Just Say NobyMaddieJCarter©
The category is Non-Consent/Reluctance. If you're against rough sex, fantasy rape, any type of bondage... I would just ignore this story. I don't want to hear comments at the end of how disgusting you thought it was, how insane my mind is, how perverted I must be, how my parents didn't hug me enough as a child. It's FICTION. And you are choosing, of your own free will, to read it. No one is forcing you to read the story.
Maddie J. Carter
"How long have we been together?"
She watched his face jerk up from where he had been sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. His eyes were intense. The hazel orbs boring into here amber ones. He released her flesh with a pop and she held back a moan as her tit bounced around gently.
"One year, eleven months, twenty-eight days. Because you're going to be twenty-seven in three days. And I asked you to be my girlfriend when you turned twenty-five... as I buried myself between your sweet thighs... And as you came you screamed out, 'Fuck yes I'll date you Dean,' I blasted jets of semen into your pussy. Why do you ask?"
"I've given you every fantasy you've wanted, haven't I?"
He nodded his head and she watched his eyes glaze over as he watched a mental slide-show of their escapades. There was the blowjob in the bathroom of the club, the time he licked her out in the closet at her parents' house while her family sat in the next room opening Christmas presents... anal sex in her back yard, in the moonlight.
Any of those things, she would've said no if she hadn't wanted to do them. He knew that. Now she wanted to ask him to play out one of hers. The only one that she'd never brought up. The only one that she thought he might not agree to. That's why she'd waited this long. To her, if he'd shove his tongue in her cunt with her grandma around, and she'd let him molest her against a wall at a club...
"I want to play rough."
"I will go get the handcuffs," he said with a smile. She stopped him, one hand on his shoulder.
"No... I mean... rough."
"You mean like spanking and stuff?"
"Kind of. I want you to force me. Make me suck you, make me fuck you. Slap my face, call me names... I guess I want you to... I want it to feel like... Well..."
"You want me to rape you?!"
"It wouldn't be rape. I want you to do it. It's consensual. I've just always wanted to..."
"To have someone degrade you and make you feel like shit... Stacy, you don't know what you're asking."
"Dean, I just..."
She couldn't finish what she was going to say, not that she even knew what that might have been. He leapt off of her, grabbed his jeans off the floor and threw them on as he stalked toward the bathroom. She was still sprawled, naked, on the bed a few minutes later when she heard the front door slam and tires squeal.
Stacy stood at the bar, looking out over the crowd of people.
There weren't a lot of men in the crush yet. But there would be. And when more showed up, she would find one to take her frustrations out on. She didn't need Dean to hold her back from her wants and needs. She had never said no to something he wanted. Sure, this was a little more... taboo... but she trusted him to do it properly.
With a sigh, she took another sip of her drink and let her eyes scan the mass of bodies once more. She didn't see the man in the corner who watched her intently. Didn't feel his eyes as he took in her strapless cocktail dress, her sleek, auburn hair that she's straightened for the evening, or her black stiletto heels. And she didn't see him lick his lips in appreciation before taking a swig of his beer.
A few hours later Stacy let out another sigh, this time in disgust, as she placed her fourth, empty, glass onto the bar and signaled to the barkeep to pay her tab. Five minutes later she was walking out the door and hailing a cab. And ten minutes after that she was fumbling with her keys, trying to unlock her front door. She had finally gotten the deadbolt undone, and was stepping through her doorway, when an arm snaked around her waist and half-pushed, half-carried her through into the foyer.
A scream was ready to tear from her throat as the fingers of a second hand wrapped around her throat. Said fingers flexed and the scream came out as a squeak.
"Don't scream again," came a gravelly threat and Stacy's brain went into a drunken frenzy of fear. She didn't know why this was happening. Her fingers were digging into the fabric of his shirt as she tried to claw and pry herself free. Her body twisted and turned as she tried to get out of his grasp.
"Stop it," he growled in her ear and it sent another trickle of fear down her spine. She attempted to stomp down on his foot with one of her heels but he chuckled darkly and kicked out her leg. She cried out as she started to fall.
Her knees hit the hardwood floor with force and she had to let go of her grip on his arm to brace herself from face-planting as well. His weight pressed her down and she felt shooting pains from all her landing points. Stacy heard the click of his tongue as a mocking reprimand and, incensed, she tried to buck him off of her.
All she got for her troubles were another squeeze on her throat, pushed down to the floor more fully, and the feel of something hard pressing into the crack of her ass. That stopped her movements like a flash. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she knew what was going to happen now. Was this really what she had wanted Dean to do to her? Was this something that turned her on?
"Why'd you stop squirming baby? That was the best feeling all night. Come on, grind that ass back against me again."
She heard the threat in the gruff voice. And she didn't want to know what would happen if she didn't comply. With a sniffle, and one of the tears falling to the floor, she moved hesitantly. Pretending this wasn't really happening, like it was a dream, and the man was Dean, she rocked back and forth, rubbing her ass against his groin. He groaned and lifted his free hand, reaching under her and ripping the top of her dress down so that her braless breasts spilled out.
The coolness of the night and the chill from the floorboards had her nipples puckering instantly. He lifted her by the throat and pawed at her tits, pinching the hardened tips and smacking them soundly so that they swayed back and forth. Biting her lip, Stacy tried to stamp out the sliver of desire that the manhandling produced.
"The little slut likes her titties roughed up, eh? Does she like to play rough anywhere else?"
He finally took his fingers away from her throat and she was about to turn around when he barked out an order.
"Don't fucking turn around! Keep your eyes closed!"
She jerked at the command and felt her body shake slightly as the fear came rushing back. Then she felt something slide over her eyes, and she realized that he had blindfolded her with something. She bit her lip, her nerves going haywire.
She hated not being able to see, being in complete darkness. It was the one thing she'd always been adamant about with Dean. It was probably a stupid fear, being twenty-seven and afraid of the dark, but there it was anyway.
"P-p-please," she stuttered. "Please don't cover my eyes. I won't l-look at you."
"Not taking a stupid risk like that sweet cheeks."
"You... you don't understand. I'm afraid... of... of the dark."
The last part came out almost as a whisper. She was starting to sweat, her fear getting the best of her. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't hear him come close. So when she felt him whisper in her ear, she jumped and yelped.
"You should be. Bad things are hidden in the dark."
Then he flipped her over quickly. With her arms and legs flailing, her center of gravity shot to hell because of her loss of sight, Stacy cried out as he fell between her thighs. Her dress was more form-fitting than loose, and the material bit into her skin as he pressed her legs far apart. She felt his hands on her body and the will to fight came back again, through the haze of fear.
She swung her arms out, trying to punch, trying to slap, trying anything. He just laughed and grabbed her wrists, pushing them to the floor and above her head. He leaned over her, laughing in her ear before licking her neck.
"I love feeling you fight, slut. I love how you try to stop the inevitable. You're mine tonight you little bitch."
He bit her neck hard, tugging at it and making her cry out. Then he trailed a path down the column of her throat, nipping her collarbone, across her shoulder. She had to have over ten marks by the time he was done.
"I saw you in the bar. You wanted this. You wanted some man to come and fuck you like the little slut you were dressed as. I'm doing you a favor. I'm giving you what you want. Aren't I a nice man?"
The knowledge that he had watched her, had picked her out of a bar full of people... why couldn't he have picked someone else? What made her so special? Her inner thoughts were cut short as she felt the sting of his palm on her cheek.
"Answer me! Aren't I a nice man for giving you the fucking you were practically gagging for?"
"Yes... you're a ni-nice m-man," she choked out.
"Good girl. Now, keep those hands above your head, or I'll have to tie them where I want them, do we understand one another?"
Stacy nodded her head and pressed her palms to the floorboards. Then she cried out in surprise as he ripped first one, then the second, side of her dress so that it rolled up her hips. Her panties, what little scrap of fabric they consisted of, were pulled until the material came apart as well, and she felt the air on her naked flesh. A finger slid between her legs and she heard him whisper.
"Tsk tsk. Not ready for me yet? I'm hurt... but we can fix that, and make this even better."
She was ready to tell him to go to hell when that questing finger ran over her clit. So surprised, she jumped and yelped as a spark of pleasure coursed through her body. She shook her head, refusing to find any joy in this. Her body had other ideas though.
"Fight all you want," came a harsh whisper. "You may deny this, curse me forever, anything... but your body wants it. Your pussy wants it. Feel how you get wet so quickly, just from one finger toying with it?"
He spread her lips, holding her open so he could probe her slit. She flushed crimson as she realized that she was fairly wet now, and he was right. Her body was betraying what her mind was screaming. No matter what she said, her wetness told him everything. Before she could stop herself, Stacy threw her hands down to try and push him away. The result was instantaneous.
His hand was hard as he backhanded her. Stacy felt like she'd been hit by a baseball bat. The stars she saw behind the blindfold made it seem as bright as the Fourth of July. Too stunned to cry, to scream, to move, she choked on a breathy sob as the man settled his weight on her, sitting on top of her, and she heard the rip of duct tape.
"What did I tell you, you fucking slut? I told you to keep your hands up. Stupid whore," he muttered.
Then she was kicking out and trying to squirm from beneath him as she felt the rough, sticky tape adhere to her skin as he wrapped a length of it around her wrists again and again. She was moaning 'no' repeatedly, shaking her head back and forth, and when he moved back some, tried one last time to get free.
Bucking quickly, Stacy felt him slide off of her with a grunt, and she rolled onto her stomach and was about to begin a fast crawl, when she felt a hand wrap around her hair. It pulled tight, snapping her head back, and he was once more on top her. His groin lay roughly on her ass, and she felt him breathing hard in her ear.
"Fuck this. I'm not waiting any longer. Either you're ready, or I just get to hear you scream a little louder."
With one hand still holding her hair, Stacy heard him fumble to get his pants undone with only one hand. She tensed when he sighed, and then felt his thick, heavy, hardness land on her butt.
"Please wear a condom... i-i-it, it will give you more lube, and prote—"
He let out a low-pitched laugh. Then she let out a wail as he lifted up, and then let his palm land hard on one of her ass cheeks. As he palmed her ass with that hand, Stacy felt him rock against her a couple times.
"Save your fucking breath and spread your fucking legs some."
She felt tears leak down her cheeks, not all of them getting caught in the blindfold. Sniffling quickly, she did as he bid and felt something prod her opening. It was really going to happen, she was about to be... Go to your happy place, don't think about this.
Nothing came to mind though, and Stacy stifled a cry of shame as he groaned and buried himself inside her pussy until she felt an almost painful fullness.
"God you're tight. I knew you would be... that you'd be my good girl."
He pushed her hips down until she was flat on the floor, and then he gripped each of those hips while pulling back... before sticking his entire dick between her legs.
"Fuck, you are so tight. How's my slut doing? Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Oh no, we'll stop after I'm done. And don't worry, you're going to enjoy it."
Stacy blinked hard as he pistoned in and out of her depths. His fingers held her in a tight grip, and she wondered how many fingerprint bruises she would have in the morning. She tried to ignore the acute sensations as he sawed back and forth at a break-neck pace.
There was a hand on her neck suddenly, a pressure as he held her where he wanted her. Then he moved to the spot between her shoulderblades, and she couldn't move if she'd wanted to. Because he slid the other hand beneath her, and he humped against her, barely pulling out before he shoved himself back in. And then she shuddered as two fingers ghosted over her clit.
"Don't," she whispered.
"But you want it. I can tell. You want to come for me. You want to cream all over my dick. You want to scream for me, as your cunt clamps down on my cock. And then, when you do, I'll fill up your little hole to the brim with my cum. I know that's what you want. You want to be my personal little cum dumpster. Come on slut, come for me. I want to feel the ultimate humiliation as I bring you pleasure from this."
As he rambled in her ear, she felt him stroking over her nubbin. She was mortified by how easily he slid across her clit. How could she be so wet right now? But there it was, starting low. There was a pressure beneath her navel, and she subconsciously rubbed against him as he tweaked her clit between his fingers.
"Come on, fucking whore. Come. Tighten those muscles and milk me. I wanna fill you up. I wanna dump every drop of my semen into you."
He hips thrust against her erratically.
He was losing control.
And she could do nothing... nothing but gasp and bite her lip to keep from moaning as his fingers were a step away from forcing an orgasm out of her.
"Fuuuuccckkk," he let out in a guttural growl.
Stacy tried, in vain, to get her hands separated, but nothing worked as she made a mewling noise.
He was pulsing, his hand on her back was pressing her hard into the floor. And then, with a rough tweak, he pinched the little bundle of nerves that sent her over the edge. She moaned and shrieked, she ground her body against him, and she sobbed as a fresh set of shameful tears poured from her eyes. Her attacker let out a guttural cry, and he pumped his essence into her quivering hole.
"Thanks for such a memorable ride, sweetness," he growled against her ear a moment later. Stacy winced as he slapped her ass one final time, and then took a deep breath as he moved off of her, his shrinking member sliding from her dripping pussy. The material was pulled from her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, everything a blur between the pent-up emotions, and the tears. When she whipped her head around and saw Dean... Her body relaxed immediately, her mind trying to work everything out.
"Don't ever, EVER, ask me to do something like that again."
"I won't... but... thank you," she murmured, as he laid her out on their bed.
He made quick work of the duct tape, and then he gently removed the ruined dress. Then he stretched out beside her, and she curled into him.
"You have to admit... a part of you liked that."
"There are so many other ways to dominate you, without having to force myself on you."
"But... it is definitely something I won't forget."